10 Things I Hate About Horribly Written Fanfics
by Sallie A. Walker
Summary: In which Kat meets a Mary Sue, Bianca gets OOC, and Patrick does fluff. Will there be an outlet to this nightmare? 2/3 parts completed! AUTHOR'S NOTE ADDED: Jetlag sucks. So is the college workload because of it. Will get to this when I can T.T
1. The Nightmare Begins

A/N: So, you can guess where this story was inspired from. Yes--_all gayly written fanfiction that exists on this site to date!_ It brings tears to my eyes that we have to deal with corny Mary-Sues, OOCness (without warning too!), cliche plots, and the whole. Horrible. Schpeel.

So in protest of such carnage in the fanfiction world, I have written so far one chapter out of a three-shot story! For your entertainment and awareness of this horrible situation. Let us all endeavor to rid the internet of such evils! With laughter and (hopefully) great revelations, we will have our victory over this darkness~

Anyway, enjoy.

**Disclaimer: I do not own 10 Things I Hate About You. Or Mary Sues. Or cliche intents. Or OOC characters. Gawd, I hope I don't.**

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It was another day of school. Kat drove her newly biodieseled car to school—then went back because she forgot her sister at home. _Why did I forget my sister, of all times? I feel so terrible and miserable inside… wait, am I turning OOC??_

Bianca, of course, of course was mortified. So she turned on the radio and listened to Linkin Park on the way to school. Kat of course, wasn't too happy that her sister chose what they listened to for the third time that week.

"Hey, that's not cool, you know."

"What's not cool?" Bianca attempted her best pout. Though sadly it never worked on her sister… maybe if she practiced it would work on Cameron.

"That you didn't turn to NPR. What will happen to the world while I'm not listening?" Kat asked in her usual strong feminism. Not that it was the real tone she chose to talk with all the time… she supposed the author of the story just didn't know how else to describe it.

"Well, forget it!" Bianca half-screamed. "You practically FORGOT me at home, so that makes this THE NEW DIVIDE!! We are NOT sisters anymore, you got me?!"

Kat was pretty much stunned. No, not by the fact that her sister actually knew the name to the newest Linkin Park release, but that she could practically see her sister's personality spin around a hundred-eighty degrees.

There was this silence on the car. No, not the literal silence. But you know, the kind that made damsels caught in the evil clutches of 'the time of month' actually calm down… and then again, brought out the best, heartfelt apologies. Cliché normally didn't come with the package, unless there was fluff in it of course. But hopefully that didn't apply in this situation.

"Look Bianca, I'm sorry for being selfish. I guess my stupid characterization got to me."

"Your stupid _what_?"

"I don't know… I feel like the person that's writing my—oh, nevermind."

"Yeah, I'm sorry for being selfish too," Bianca muttered.

Kat smiled. Like, not her usual smile. The kind that was cute and made guys think of Barbie and unicorns.

"Yeah, let's hug—I don't think we've done that in the movie either."

"_What_?"

"Nothing."

So the two sisters hugged, and sobbed on each other's shoulders. Eventually, the Niagara Falls of Estrogen (and OOCness) stopped, and sniffing, they both said their goodbyes and headed to class

Kat walked in her Geometry class (that she wasn't supposed to be in, but they—no, she meant the fanfic writer—made a mistake), and braced herself for scolding from the teacher. Thank goodness she didn't get any, because the fanfic writer forgot about that too.

One thing that she wasn't spared from was the blonde bimbo that was being introduced in front of the class… apparently as a new student.

"Hello class," the teacher-without-a-name said cheerfully. "We have a new student here today, from INSERTTOWNHERE, INSERTSTATE. Please make Mary Sue feel welcome!"

The majority of the class was asleep, so only a few took notice of the new student. But two people in the class noticed all too clearly—Kat, and Patrick. Kat shielded her eyes as she went to sit down so that she wouldn't be blinded by Mary Sue's fake highlights and smiling, commercial-white teeth. But Patrick only saw one thing: the new student definitely had C cups.

Mary Sue saw only one thing too. Smiling beautifully (cause we know there's only one word to describe a Mary Sue's smile), she walked over to the empty desk right next to Patrick Verona. As she sat down gracefully on a well-rounded butt, Patrick couldn't help but wish he were the seat of that chair… not that he had any sexual intent in it. Think of it as Shakespeare.

Kat noticed all of this, and scowled to herself. When the assignment for the day came around, she couldn't work… all she found herself doing was writing death threats about Mary Sue on her paper. And 'I 3 Patrick Verona' notes seemed to escape from her pen too.

Eventually she realized that she wouldn't be able to turn in her assignment like that, so she asked teacher-without-a-name for a new one. Though he crinkled his eyes in confusion, he still gave her a new sheet. Kat went to throw her old paper away, and then went back to her seat to do her assignment.

The rest of the class passed by like an author experiencing writer's block.

Eventually the bell rang. Kat stomped madly out of the room, as mad girls are wont to do. She went to her locker, jerked it open (in this particular case, combination locks don't exist), and started throwing all the pictures she had of Patrick out. She was no longer going to be Out Of Character for him.

Then some rabid fangirl (that probably didn't belong in the series anyway) screamed with genuine moe, swooped down, and ran away with the photos in her arms. Kat rolled her eyes and slammed her locker door shut.

It was now lunch. Bianca was sitting alone, being that her Katy Perry friend wasn't there and no other cheerleader felt she was quality Worth-As-Lunch-Companion. Cameron debated Thoreauistically with himself whether he should sit with her. To be, or not to be the gentleman. Or you can say Gay Best Friend. Gah… he still needed to convince her about his heterosexualness.

In the end, he played his part and sat down next to her. Bianca looked up at him and smiled.

"Hey Cameron!"

"Hey Bianca," Cameron couldn't get over how cute of a Barbie she was. Hopefully he would be her Ken. Wait, was that just fluff?

Bianca went back to her meal of hotpockets, and Cameron wondered if he should get her a martini and Filet Mignon. And candlesticks… maybe some roses. You know, just to spiff up the romance. Cause neither the show's screenwriters or the author were doing anything.

"So Cameron, I was thinking," Bianca began.

His heart started beating fast. Was this going to be a confession of her newly realized love? Of appreciation for all he's done to win her heart? That they belong together in an fairytale palace and white horses and a cute, baby girl like Tom Cruise's? Without the weird name…

"…So I was thinking that we need to take this relationship to another level," Bianca said with that perfectly mesmerizing smile. Gawd, she would put all the Mary Sues in the fanfiction world to shame.

"Yes?" Cameron breathed. He hardly could believe his luck. One day his fanfiction site closed down "due to the amount of story-suckage overload"… and well, the next day he finally won his dream—

"I think we're at a good point," Bianca went on. Cameron hung on her every word like a romance-starved fanfiction reader would. "in our relationship, that we can exchange some more favors."

"Really, princess? What do you need?" Cameron's heart was in his mouth.

"Excuse me?" Bianca blinked, nonplussed.

"Nothing. Go on," he muttered.

"So, there's this guy in my history class," Cameron's heart dropped all the way down, "that I like. I was hoping that you knew him—his name is Chad Spytt."

Cameron nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, he sits next to me."

Bianca's eyes brightened. "So can you, you know… drop a word about me? He recently broke up with his girlfriend, and he'll need comfort."

_Like Vladimir in that other fanfic_, he thought. Still, he couldn't bear giving away his precious jewel to even a guy that needed someone at the moment. It's like losing his Elizabeth, and he was Darcy.

Not that he read Pride and Prejudice…

Well, just maybe the fanfiction.

"Cameron?"

Cameron suddenly was faced with Bianca's hopeful, doe-like eyes. Well, maybe he could do this. In the name of Bianca Stratford, he will.

Hopefully reading more fanfics will teach him how to win her for sure…

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A/N: So... how did ya'll like ;). Let me know! I shall continue my second part tomorrow, and hopefully have it on by then. Thanks for reading!


	2. Kat Meets the Boogeyman Barbie

A/N: After a morning of outlet-shopping, I've finally got the time (and inspiration) to write more CRACKFIC 8D (kudos I-Need-A-Better-Name!). I swear just having ideas to write makes me _giggle_. Like Paris Hilton, only I hope to God I haven't shop as much as she would this morning. Please tell me two tops make me okay .

I won't promise what insanity will fly out of my fingers as I type, but I will promise more fun and hilarity. And possibly more spit M&M's ;). (At Peregrine: It's okay to like Mary Sues sometimes—as long as you don't write them :D.)

And btw…At 123(456789… unique set of numerals ^^): Thanks for the cute feedback ;)… sadly, I'm not so hardcore as to get myself a pity-bucket when people are unappreciative. [Both of] those happen to be cliché… I don't do cliché.

Anyway, please don't litter my review list with your complaints. If you're really that upset, do what I did and write a story~

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this fic. Kat would probably kill me if she thought I did…**

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Kat found poking to be an extremely meaningful, _relaxing_ exercise. It helped get rid of the stress that came from that… stupid, retarded, fake… Mary Sue. She supposed she had no right to judge—to be honest, she's only seen her once so far. But some kind of instinct told her that she was.

She supposed it came from being a fanfic character.

Eventually Mandella got annoyed from her friend poking the wall, and snapped, "Kat I think you're going to make the wall come down on you any moment."

"Or a new, gay fanfic character will pop out at any moment," she muttered.

Before her friend could ask her what she said, a guy wearing tights and Abercrombie strutted past them and waved. Like a girl.

Kat and Mandella looked at each other, nonplussed.

"What was _that_?"

"I don't know," Mandella shrugged. "Maybe you should stop jinxing this story."

"…what was that?"

Just then, the bell rang. They waved goodbye, and parted ways.

Upon reaching her next class (which was A Study on Correcting Ungrammatical Fanfiction), Kat noticed Patrick talking with Barbie doll Mary Sue in the hallway. She was batting her long, fake lashes and smiling Crest-whitened teeth for him. You know their schtick. Patrick was talking to her while looking like he wanted to Accessorize said Barbie. Or De-accessorize.

Kat muttered a few unpleasant words as she walked in her class. A girl in a plaid skirt, pigtails and glasses heard, and looked warily at her. Kat noticed her looking, and rolled her eyes.

"What?"

The girl looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to say it.

Kat calmed down a bit. "It's okay, spit it out."

Looking hesitant, she finally opened her mouth.

"My mom said I shouldn't read fanfiction with bad words in it."

Kat stared. The girl stared back. Finally Kat asked, "Why?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But somehow I ended up being in this story anyway."

Confused but not questioning any further, Kat walked to her own seat. Thank God Patrick wasn't in this class.

Just as she finished that thought, My Very Own Barbie walked in the door, strutting her hips. Kat groaned, and dropped her head onto her desktop.

It just so happened that Mary Sue heard, and smiling, walked over to the empty desk in front of her. Plopping down her fairly-sized behind, she flashed her spotless white teeth and started talking to her.

"Hi! My name's Mary Sue. I think I saw you in my last class, what's your name?"

Kat looked up at her slowly, trying to discover whether there was plastic behind her doll face. You know, polymer—typical doll material.

Unfazed and oblivious, Mary Sue widened her smile and looked questioningly at her.

She sighed. "You can call me Kat."

"Oh!" Mary Sue gave an excited squeal. "Like the pet animal 'cat', you mean? I looove cats, you know."

Kat had a sudden urge to see if her head could come off like a real Barbie Doll's. Probably not smart—and most importantly, would make this fanfic rated 'M' for mature. So she replied her politely.

"No, with a 'K'," she answered, dulcet tones that would show to any normal person.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case here. This was a _Mary Sue_.

She widened her eyes. "Ohhhh. Hahaha, that's really cute! And a smart way to name yourself," she said thoughtfully.

_I didn't name myself_, Kat thought. _They adapted it from Shakespeare in the movie. Why do I just happen to be someone that's plagiarized from a 15__th__-16__th__ century play?_ For some strange reason, this made Kat very depressed.

This led her to wonder how come they never put angsty fanfic characters on anti-depressants before they try to kill themselves. A good, theoretical question…

Before she could add more to her rather legit hypothesis, class had begun. Teacher-without-a-name No. 2 stood up and began her class lecture. Which wasn't included in this story, because fanfic writers typically don't waste their time on stuff like this.

Some time later the class assignment was passed out. Kat was glad for an excuse to ignore Barbie Doll's incessant, girly whispering. However as she started to work on her worksheet, she found she could only get to question three ('True or False: adding more than one exclamation mark is grammatically correct when used in Mary Sue conversation.'). This was because My Personal Barbie chose to partner up on this assignment, and for some decidedly annoying (and totally _cliché_) reason from Writer Up There, she wanted to talk about Patrick Verona. Or Ken, as it seemed to her cheesy fantasy. So much that it would make Little Caesar's (Pizza! Pizza!) go out of business.

"…and the look he gives you gets so intense, it makes you think of—" Barbie stopped short, realizing she didn't have any supply clever allusions to use.

Kat chose this moment to answer 'false' on that question, and was stalled again when Mary Sue eventually found what she was going to say. "Well, it makes you think of a hot male-Mary Sue," she ended dreamily.

Kat rolled her eyes for the thirtieth time that day. Being in a fanfic does suck.

"I don't think those exist."

Mary Sue gave a pout that beat Bianca's by a good ten points. Not that there was a rating system or anything.

"But if there were, that would be like, totally" she paused for an original word "the best!"

Thank goodness the bell chose to ring at that moment. Kat thought she would really attempt the Barbie-head-lopping theory if it didn't. Smiling just as wide as Barbie, she grabbed her things and exited the classroom. And ran into a guy with dark, curly hair.

Kat's bag fell, and she growled. "What the HECK, Verona!"

Then she looked up and realized it wasn't Patrick.

The guy she ran into gave a slow, appreciative grin as he checked her out. Kat wanted to punch him in the eyesockets, when she felt a strange feeling wash over her. It was the feeling of OOC…

_His eyes were green, like a fresh pickled toad.  
His hair was as dark as a black board.  
I wish he was mine, he's truly div—_

Kat shook her head to get Ginny Weasley's stupid love poem out of her head. The reason she got together with Harry Potter, she didn't know. By the way, what happened to the usual long-ass character descriptions in moments like these? It was kind of obvious this guy wasn't Daniel Radcliffe, with all the similar outward characteristics.

Still, he must've thought he was—because he didn't get out of the way.

Instead, he held out his hand. Kat stared at it for a while, and then the horrifying realization hit her.

_Omiword… this canNOT be male-Mary Sue!_

"Sorry for running into you," he said slowly, though his smirk let all the world know he wasn't. "My name's Brandon Sue."

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A/N: …so, I just thought I'd leave it at that for this chapter ;). Hey, hey—no worries! I'll start on it when I get back to America. In like, three days :D.

…Ya'll should've seen the look on your faces.

I'll most likely work on it tonight, unless family priority calls. This is our first time in five years to be with our relatives (halfway around the world), so I'm going to cherish it ^^. But I will try to get this story done before I board the plane :).

Thanks, and reviews are most welcome! Lower than 100 degrees Celsius, or 212 Fahrenheit (for us old-fashioned Americans) are most appreciated~

**EDIT: Sorry, may not be able to update that soon :(. Found out flight was tomorrow. Will do so as soon as possible! Thanks for understanding~**


	3. Author's Note

A/N: So I have a feeling. That you all want me to quit this story.... why? Let me have a guess. For expressing poor, poor Mary Sue the way I do. For discussing the subject of 'OOC'. Well, without the typical fluff that is. For making fluff, not 'fluff'.

With such wonderfully kind and enlightening reviews, I really see how we can come to appreciate and improve other writers' fiction. Should I be well-entertained by their story-subject, I will lavish all sorts of sweets and goodies on them. After all, isn't that all they want? And if I'm not... well, safe to say, I can hide behind a computer alias to type anything I want (especially the encouraging, kind stuff that mothers approve of).

Maybe I should add another disclaimer to my story:

_**"This story is written purely from the opinion of the author. The humor is not specifically directed and, as with all humor, can be taken or left as it is."**_

But then again, I'd probably have to leave a dozen more disclaimers to each part. Like, what 'opinion' means. 'Specifically directed'. And then the big, befuddling term... 'humor'.

For those that already understand this--many, many thanks. For those who don't yet, and don't want to... I'm sorry I don't have a fictional escort (except maybe for Brandon Sue), but please make your virtual exit without hurting yourself too much from mistaken intents.

And those that just don't get this at all, here's the note without my usual cynicism:

I'm sorry that I upsetted so many of you guys with my completely impersonal and humorously intended story. I understand that many of you like such fiction the way you do--at the same time, it's kind of like walking in a stand-up comedy show about asians whenever you're one yourself. If you are okay with it, do stay and share the laughs. People applaud _you_ for it. But if you can't take it, just walk out. They're not going to hate you for it, so why waste your time hating them?

Oh and by the way, I think the name 'fanfic police' is cute. But I don't need it. I leave people to their own devices, because I believe in your own inspiration, personal work, etc. etc. I also believe in expressing yourself. Maybe there should be fanfic police to stop me there...

Sally H. Walker

P.S. Another thing, please don't take the sarcasm to heart. It's my default when I'm disgusted with the way things are--still, it doesn't mean I'm disgusted with 'you'. What do I have against someone on cyberspace, anyway?

**P.P.S. Oh, no--I still very well intend to continue the story. Just in a hurry when I wrote this, and practically shutting down from jetlag =/. Please don't expect anything at least for the next day or two though, since I'll be starting college classes. Hopefully (desperately, wishfully) I won't be too busy. As with all good tales--with fluff added indeed--our characters need a good ending :D. And they'll get one--how much character they'll have to sacrifice in the process though, don't ask me ^^.**


	4. She's In Love, Not Reality

A/N: Y'know, I might've left a smaller wordcount to this based on the pain of appreciative will. But consider this a treat, if you like to think just nothing of it.

Includes 10001 allusional references, and 202 strange, dizzying, and author-crazed spells with 'em.

Enjoy! Review! And Read your Own Damn Conscience in them too!

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His hands were like fire all down her back, and from his breathy groans she could tell hers were positively volcanic on top of his chest. Kat loved the feeling of his tight, rock-hard muscles under her palm and fingertips. It was positively thrilling. Like the fact that her hero could also play Seeker in Quidditch…

"Kat STAFFORD!! What in _Merlin's best khaki pleats _are you doing?!"

At the frantic, appalled tone of her younger sister, she immediately felt all the weeks of sunny weather escape her blissful conscience.

"What is this now, an alternate universe?" Bianca's intimidating shout startled a nearby cluster of standard Goths. "This _is _still a story of two celibate girls in high school, right? I think I'm not supposed to see 'Secret Life of an American Teenager' anywhere in this!"

Kat felt her anger rise up like ravenous, demented beast. And green eyes (like her hot stud). Since when did the director give the witty, sarcastic role over to Meaghan Martin?

_Wait. Does she even _know _a_ _Meaghan Martin?_

"Bianca! It's not your business who I happen to snog with!" Kat gritted her words out bitingly.

"It _is_ mybusiness," Bianca's snarl sounded suspiciously like Scar, the beloved _Lion King's_ one-of-a-kind protagonist. Even her hair now looked several shades too dark.

"If my only ever self-confident, morally outspoken sister has finally decided she, of ALL people, has the right to turn into mush in the arms of some shallow hottie, yes! I should have the ability to say something about it."

"I am NOT mush, and he is _not _shallow, Bianca," Kat retorted hotly. Nevermind relocated puns, at the moment.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!?!" Bianca's roar had several students (aka coyote cubs) cowering in timidity. "For once, Kat, put your situation beside an average highschooler's lunch tray, and see what I'm talking about! You're like those sandy mashed potatoes and half-filled chicken pot pies, going at a full lip-lock against the school wall."

The Katrick pair (minus Ethan Peck) both sprouted maroon-tinted veins of aggravation that mechanically pulsed in steely skepticism.

Miss I-Declare-A-Stratford-Goth let her magical blue eye swivel three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees before deigning it to rest on her understandably plasticized older sister.

"Is there a missing misunderstanding, sis?"

Katty Buchanan gave a tinkling, superficial laugh as her own nervous eyes met the slightly tilting school clock for a short, tremoring "period of suspense".

"Why dear, I don't say I've felt anything's connected for me more than the moment I first walked into that grand, grand library down the Middle Eastern Hall of Gatsby's—oh. Sorry… Padua High. Yes."

"Indeed!!" Brandon let out a bark of laughter that sounded nearly just like athazagoraphobia.

Katty smiled through batting her feathery windshield-wipers. Respectively, her sister who self-adopted herself in the Adams family heaved a fearful laugh at the vacant rooms she found within.

"Ohhh. Alright. DO tell me, sister… how much Literature from **English** year do I have to cover before I get to the bottom of this split-personality sketch _your genius_ is cooking up?"

And then… Bianca felt she single-handedly put the Stratford back in "Kat", as her sister's artificial intelligence curtain parted to reveal a distinctly horrified rebel (bio-activist, academically-consummated, socially ego-bruising…) lass. To be more the chauvinist in her duty, she didn't think it was more possible of a moment to see the pretty lights in those eyes more ruined.

"Ever" is a good, good word. Happily and After were singular cases after that.

In moments of retrospect, Kat retained humane control of the fictional alien, forgot a little less of her own, and remained the same throughout the entire Padua-infested afternoon.

Or so Bianca ended up hearing from her, anyway.

Brandon was rather worse for wear come Tuesday of next week… so it was official that he stayed put in the author's sordid imagination.

Bianca decidedly rung up the female sibling of the Sues from 463 Lamest Boulevard. They had many a good tea party in mini Fisher Price sets, laughing when their similarly plastic cups melted in the microwave.

Scar was banished into the far country, and she took another several hours to set in the blonde dye in her locks the very next day of this earth-shattering occurrence.

Upon original introspection… Patrick woke up to neat morals and a much dressier ego.

"Brilliant, Lady Katherine Stafford, will you let me copy your most competent of all Economics essays for the due date of tomorrow's, fair, fairest dawn?"

Katherine had always thought Japanese kendo sounded less hurtful—after she just punched another male egoist in the lower stomach.

When all creativity fails, why must there still be the sorry, sorry existence of rock hard abs?

* * *

A/N: Punctuated for safety... won't want to feel Kat's glare on me after one too much excruciating deprecations to her character. Let me know how sorry/intense you felt about this!

THANKS much for any who stuck through the Sahara of timeless boredom :D. Inspirations work just like that, y'know?

(By the way, kudos back for the much morally-gifted peeps that reviewed after my schadenfreudist abandonment ;). You make my world so round I remember my sun still comes up and goes down :P.)


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